A Dream is a Wish
by Cy Fur
Summary: Olette ponders on dreams, and on Tifa. Tifa/Olette. Written for 30 kisses.


**I do not own Tifa, Olette, or any other characters of Kingdom Heart, and will not be making any money off of them.**

Olette had always been a dreamer. She daydreamed about what she would do when she was an adult, or if she found a portal to another universe, or if she was the queen of the world. Before she had gotten together with Tifa, she had daydreamed about what it would be like to kiss Tifa, to hold her hand, to make love to her. She was always a bit hazy on the last part - she'd never entirely understood how two women could have sex with each other. She'd seen bits and pieces of things - pornos, things like that - but she'd never gotten the full idea. But not the two were… well, they weren't dating, exactly, but the term was close enough to kiss. Although that was an interesting choice of words.

In her daydreams, Tifa always smelled faintly of orange blossoms and her kisses tasted like cherry lip gloss. Her hands were soft and strong, the fingernails painted with clear polish, or maybe a light peach. Her breasts would be soft and firm, her hair soft and silky. All in all, it was a nice fantasy, and on nights when she couldn't sleep, Olette would imagine she was being held in Tifa's strong arms, safe from everything. It was comforting, although it made her feel a bit silly, like a little kid's image of Santa Claus protecting them from the monster's under the bed.

Olette's dreams didn't always match up to the reality, though. She was sitting in Tifa's living room, on the couch, cuddled up with her head on Tifa's shoulder. Tifa had her arm wrapped around Olette's shoulders, absently rubbing it. Winter was still holding on, as much as it could, and Tifa's living room was surprisingly cold. The two of them were huddled under a big blanket, watching a movie.

Tifa didn't smell of orange blossoms. Her big black sweatshirt smelled faintly of fabric softener and dinner, as well as Tifa's own essential scent. Tifa's scent was not, in fact, orange blossoms. She smelled faintly of her soap, a fake floral scent, of her shampoo, which was coconut scented, and her own, personal scent, of woman and strength and quiet humor. It made Olette shiver slightly, in a way that her imagined scent never did. It was much realer than any imagining she could ever have.

Olette cuddled up to Tifa, resting her head on the older woman's lap, curling herself up. It didn't seem to bother Tifa - she looked down at Olette and smiled, beginning to pet her hair. She brushed it off of Olette's forehead and leaned down to kiss the soft skin of Olette's cheek. Her soft hair pattered down around Olette's face, almost like snow, and it tickled slightly. Olette rolled over a bit, so that she was lying more on her back than on her side, looking up into Tifa's cinnamon colored eyes.

Tifa smiled crookedly, stroking along Olette's face with one fingertip, feeling along Olette's small nose, her pale eyebrows, her thin lips. Her smile turned lazier, more content. She cupped Olette's cheek and pressed her thumb to Olette's lips, tracing their outline gently.

Olette kissed Tifa's thumb, blushing somewhat. She was still shy about being affectionate in that manner, like a lover. She flushed dark pink, then, because they were almost lovers, almost. They hadn't done anything… extreme, and she could, metaphorically, still go to catch a unicorn, as it were.

Olette took the hand not pressed against her face in both hands and examined it, stroking along the life line, the love line, the luck line. She felt the calluses on her knuckles, where she fought, and she smiled. Tifa's hands weren't the beautiful soft things that she imagined, but they were better. They were real hands, strong hands, hands that fought evil and washed dishes. An image flashed through her head, of those rough hands on her breasts, and she shuddered, closing her eyes for a brief instant.

"Are you alright?" Tifa's hand moved to Olette's forehead, feeling for a fever, and Olette shivered again, harder. It felt like everywhere Tifa touched her, the skin would tingle. She shivered again as Tifa cupped her cheek again, sliding her thumb into her mouth.

Tifa's skin tasted like salt and warmth, and a bit like the pizza she had been eating. Olette fluttered her tongue over the tip of Tifa's thumb, and she was rewarded by a sharp intake of breath. "Careful…," Tifa murmured, sliding more of her thumb into Olette's mouth "I might get ideas."

"What kind of ideas?" Olette was a bit shocked at herself, but it was slightly easier to banter when it was just her and Tifa in the dark house, Tifa's various housemates off doing one thing or another for the night, ensuring that the two of them had the house to themselves.

"The kind of ideas that might lead to things," Tifa murmured, and she was smirking slightly.

"Are they bad things?" Olette's fingers moved to Tifa's hair, gently twining it around them, tugging gently.

"Oh, no," Tifa said, and she was shifting position, leaning further forward, so that her breast was pressed against Olette's cheek. "They're quite nice things."

"Then why should I be careful about making you think them?" Olette's cheeks were flushing, and she was acutely aware of all of the places they were touching, all the spots that had heat spilling out under the skin.

"Because I might take advantage of you," Tifa said, and her voice was tender as she brushed Olette's hair out of her face. "And no matter how nice they are, I don't want you to be too addled by them to make a conscientious decision."

"What if I said, right here and now, that I'm okay with… nice things?" Olette was shaking - she was still a virgin, but she was completely sure that it was Tifa she wanted to be her first. Of course, she'd daydreamed about her first time being on a bed, with roses and candles, wearing something silky and lacy, but like Tifa's rough hands, it felt more… real, to do it here, on Tifa's lumpy old couch while they were dressed in their cuddly cold weather clothing.

"Well… I'd say that we've done enough talking," Tifa said, and her voice was husky again. She leaned down and kissed Olette, a proper kiss, her tongue stroking Olette's lips to gain entrance. They kissed for a good while, deep, wet kissing. Tifa didn't taste like cherry lip gloss - Tifa wasn't really a lip gloss kind of woman. She tasted a bit like the garlic she'd put on her pizza, and the orange juice she'd been drinking it with, and a bit like her own breath, which tasted… not nice, exactly, but real. Better than cherry lip gloss.

The moments blended together for Olette. She remembered kissing Tifa, her hands tangled in Tifa's long hair and her head tilted back. She remembered sitting up, moving to sit on top of Tifa, straddling her. She remembered taking her own sweatshirt off, giggling a bit at the way the static electricity made her hair stand on end, and how it shocked Tifa when she kissed her. They both giggled at that.

Olette tugged on the zipper to Tifa's hoodie, pulling it down. The other woman had a button down shirt under it, a green one, and Olette's fingers were shaking the tiniest bit as she moved her fingers to the buttons. "Would it be okay if I…?"

Tifa smiled, her eyes a bit glassy. "I don't know what I'd do if you didn't," she said, her voice breathless. She moved her hands to Olette's sides, the inside of her wrist pressed against the side of Olette's breast. "May I…?" She pressed the heel of her hand gently against Olette's breast.

"Um… yeah," Olette mumbled. She was flushing, biting her lip. She swallowed thickly as Tifa's hand moved over her breast, to cup it, pressing the heel of her hand against the nipple.

"Are you alright?" Tifa wasn't whispering, but it was nearly a whisper.

"Y-yeah," Olette mumbled, blushing harder. "Just, um… kinda… y'know."

"No I don't," Tifa said and her voice was full of mischief. "What's it feel like?"

"It feels…." Olette swallowed thickly. "It feels…." So many different things. Ticklish and twitchy and warm and tingling and a lot of other things that she couldn't really put into words. Instead of trying, where she would no doubt make an idiot of herself, stumbling over her tongue and saying the wrong thing, she leaned forward and kissed Tifa again, trying to convey what she was feeling. She kissed her hotly and wetly, stroking the roof of Tifa's mouth with her tongue, her hands nervously going to Tifa's breasts through her thick sweatshirt.

Tifa made a quiet, needy sound into Olette's mouth and arched her back, forcing her breasts into Olette's hands. She kissed harder, nibbling on Olette's lips, her hands moving from Olette's breasts to her ass, kneading it and pulling her closer. She was pulling Olette as close as she could.

Olette was distracted by the kiss, distracted by the warmth, the softness, the wetness, but at the same time, she was Olette, and Olette always thought. Tifa's breasts were warm and heavy and soft in her hands, heaving with every breath. Olette broke their kiss, panting, her chin wet with spit. It was funny - as much as she always daydreamed about kissing Tifa, she'd never really thought about things like spit or teeth bumping together. She was shaking ever so slightly, her hands still splayed out on Tifa's breasts. She pressed her forehead against Tifa's, still panting, and smiled nervously.

"Hi," Tifa mumbled, and she rubbed noses with Olette, her hands somehow in the back pockets of Olette's jeans. She could feel the way the girl was shaking, shaking like a leaf in a storm. "You're okay?" She kissed the tip of Olette's nose. "I mean… we can stop, if you'd like."

"N-n-no…," Olette stuttered, and blushed. She took a deep breath and swallowed, then spoke again, this time without stuttering. "No, we don't have to stop. It's just… kinda intense, y'know?" She blushed. "And… you're the first person I've ever done… anything like this with. Before, I mean." She flushed harder, looking down at her hands, which were still holding Tifa's breasts.

"Do you want to take a break?" Tifa's voice was gentle, although her hands were shaking. Her pupils were dilated, her skin flushed.

"Would you be okay with that?" Olette swallowed again, harder, still panting. The intensity of the feelings coursing through her blood were starting to scare her, in a quiet kind of way. She would appreciate a break.

"Of course I am," Tifa said, and kissed Olette on the forehead. She carefully took her hands out of Olette's back pockets and patted her on the back, then shifted around, until she was lying on her side, curled around the girl, her chin on top of Olette's head.

Olette sighed, feeling her whole body relax, muscle by muscle. There was still the sweet burn of arousal in her belly, but it was a low banked fire. Olette knew it might start to blaze, but right now, it was sweetness in her veins, drowsiness beginning to slip over her. The last thoughts that slipped through her mind as she drifted off was that one fantasy was right; Tifa's arms wrapped around her were as strong, as protective, as safe, as she ever dreamed.


End file.
